


Shrinking Violet

by TheBlackCatCrossing



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackCatCrossing/pseuds/TheBlackCatCrossing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy is usually the dominant of the two, but here she reflects on why she is dependent on Harley Quinn. Poetry. Freestyle. One shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shrinking Violet

A shrinking violet

A wilted rose

A bent wild orchid.

That is what she looked like

when she sought asylum

For the th time.

Bright blue eyes

that once resembled California skies

looked dull and grey.

Glassy from the broken promises and bones

she had gotten accustomed to.

On a good day, she was like a sunflower;

Spreading infectious happiness which I admit

I was initially allergic to,

but eventually I came around.

Her warmth complimented

my chlorophyll filled bloodstream.

In the way that plants

needed their sun,

She gave me that gift

of the human touch.

She was my connection

to a foreign world

I had was not a part of

and no longer wanted to be of,

Something I had forgotten about.

When he spoke to her

she was Pavlovian

adhering to his every desire;

Every whim, she would blush

When he would take that treat away,

she rationalized, justified, twisted

all because she was wanted that approval, that validation;

his diseased touch.

It was like seeing bluebells

bathe in salt water;

Or putting a garden of foxglove

in unhealthy soil.

At least with my plants,

I can choose which nurseries to put them in.

With her, I do not have such an advantage,

I don't have the levity, I don't have the privilege.

I can control gardens, rainforests and such alike.

But I cannot control individual choice,

choice is subjective.

Having many different directions

like the petals on a carnation.

Some species of flora and fauna thrive

because of adaptation and the need for change.

I offer her a chance

to grow, to thrive, to mature.

I offer her a chance to rehabilitate.

I offer her an opportunity to be nurtured.

I offer her the gift of equality.

I offer her a place in my Garden of Eden

She has the energy of a wood sprite,

The charm of a dryad.

I am giving her the oyster,

not a looking glass.

I want her to be a part of my world, my collection.

But she stops, like a trained animal, she stops.

Humans are dumb animals,

Trained or conditioned to do what their masters say.

They are like dogs,

forever seeking that nonexistent treat

looking for that big payoff.

That imaginary reward and choose to punish themselves.

And I am the one in the orange jumpsuit.

I reject modern society and chose to recreate Paradise in my own image.

Had I chosen a socially desirable cause,

I would have been an entrepreneur, a leader.

Someone to be respected.

Instead, I am punished for what I believe in.

I can make gardens grow in the deserts of Africa

I can make it so that children in Guatemala

can live off papaya and mango,

instead of letting them go hungry

and sell cocaine to make a living.

Instead, all they see

Is Medusa in a green dress.

To them, I am no different than AIDS or famine.

I am a social pariah,

In spite of the fact

That I can cure most diseases and end world hunger.

I am branded, I am stamped, I have the scarlet letter.

They all judge me,

All except for one person.

The irony does not escape me.

The desire for connection is compounded

by the need to quash.

Quod me nutroit and all that.

She is my last connection,

an umbilical chord,

a remnant to my association

with THAT world.

She reminds me

of what it is like

to have an investment.

Again.

She calls them feelings.

What a wasteful concept.

Feelings are ephemeral,

They are not constant.

They are subject to change,

like the seasons.

She reminds me

of what it is like

to be connected, be acknowledged,

to be respected and honored

instead of feeling like a shrinking violet.


End file.
